


Mortal Resolution to Immortal Conflict

by Ace_of_Cups (Ace_Of_Cups)



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Bondage, But that's still in squicky area for a lot of people and I get that so tagged just in case, Hate Sex probably, I don't think this qualifies as enemies to lovers, M/M, Not unenthusiastic though, PWP, Technically incest even though they're not human so that's a pretty meaningless concept, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 14:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Cups/pseuds/Ace_of_Cups
Summary: Amenadiel is tired of trying to talk Lucifer into coming back to Hell and decides to chain him up and drag him instead. Only, once he's gotten Lucifer chained, anger and arousal become confused and things get worked out.





	Mortal Resolution to Immortal Conflict

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd because no one in my life is ever going to lay eyes on this lol. Don't own the characters, yada-yada.

How does the Devil pass his time, you ask? Most would, upon being faced with this question, probably answer something along the lines of “Tormenting sinners,” or “Tempting virginal souls,” or something about flaying cats for fun. This is decidedly untrue, he would argue. The result of millennia of propaganda and mudslinging by his Father and the rest of the family. Okay, so the first one might have been based in some truth, but he left that post years ago and hasn’t looked back since.

Not for others’ lack of trying, to be sure. 

But how does the Devil pass his time? On this day, at least, he passed it with a favorite bourbon (skip the glass), a favorite companion (skip the clothes), and a deep contentment with the particular life he had carved out for himself among the mortals. The empty bourbon bottle attested to the day’s indulgences, as did the soft sounds of sleeping coming from the indulged man on the bed. 

Lucifer lie beside him, the skin of his hip and shoulder warm and damp where their bodies pressed together. The light of the setting sun was crimson and warm and it spilled through the windows, sharp where it refracted through the bottles on display. He rolled to his side, away from his companion, and looked across the room. Sleep was not far away.

Now, typically, he has a sense for these things. Lucifer is attuned, he pays attention, and his pursuers are not characterized by their subtlety. And regardless, their tactic to this point amounted to stern lectures and ominous threats. Nothing serious.

But the empty bottle of bourbon, the hypnotic sounds and warmth behind him, the particularly sated state he was in, all conspired to turn his attention inward and away from those things that would normally alert him to this visitor. The way that time tended to become syrup around Amenadiel was not dissimilar from the way it behaved at the intersection of alcohol, drowsiness, and orgasms.

A bright sound, a cold bite, and a sharp yank cut through the syrup. 

“What the hell…”

Lucifer’s wrist was wrenched away from the bed and his body followed. The pain was both crushing and piercing and even in his surprised and sedated state Lucifer recognized the bite of a metal restraint. 

“Handcuffs are fun, but you’ll find they don’t stick to me, darling,” he chuckled from the floor, and snapped his finger. The handcuff, however, remained in place.

“I think these just might,” a familiar voice said, and Lucifer looked up to see Amenadiel standing above him, the end of the chain in his hands.

Lucifer leapt into action, his free hand pushing him up from the ground while he wrapped the chain that hung from his restraint around that hand and attempted to yank it free of Amenadiel’s grasp. The angel resisted with no sign of effort, the chain winding around his forearm and snaking through his hand, pulled taut. 

Amenadiel smirked as Lucifer leveled a kick at his head, ducking at the last moment and letting slack into the chain that Lucifer still pulled against, sending him off-balance and toppling backwards mid-kick. Amenadiel flicked the slack in the chain upward, catching it on Lucifer’s extended leg, and quickly looped it around. The angel stepped through the kick and pulled hard, jerking the newly-bound leg and spinning Lucifer wildly off-balance. His free arm flailed about to try and maintain his balance, but another flick and rattle and suddenly that arm was looped up in the mess of chains and limbs as well. 

Lucifer fell to the ground, hard. 

From his new perspective, shoulder and hip jamming into hardwood, chain pressed painfully into the flesh of his ankle and wrists, Lucifer had a moment to watch the chain where it was wrapped around Amenadiel’s arm as it snaked with the soft clink of its links, seemingly of its own accord.

“New toy to play with, I see,” Lucifer said, his unfailing snark fixed firmly in his voice.

Amenadiel looked on dispassionately, answering, “What can I say? Tired of trying to debate you back onto your throne. Figured I’d drag you back instead.” The chain clinked in response to some unheard command and began tightening, until Lucifer’s three bound limbs were nearly joined to each other. 

“If I’d known you wanted to tie me up so badly we could’ve been having a lot more fun with our debates all this time,” Lucifer joked. 

Amenadiel noted the sharp edge of calculating panic hidden in his joke, in his eyes, at the thought of being dragged back to Hell. The two of them had been doing this dance, this noncommittal pursuit and diplomacy, for years now, Amenadiel trying to talk Lucifer back into his role as King of Hell following his abdication and disappearance. The angel’s grip tightened on the chain as he surveyed the time wasted on this pointless pursuit, recalled the pleas to his Father to give him anything else to do other than babysit a spoiled traitor of an angel. The wasted years, shadowing Lucifer, watching him frolic about in the mortal world, always interfering where he shouldn’t and expecting to be simply allowed to pursue his most petty whim, all while Amenadiel languished in his shadow.

“You look upset, Amenadiel, perhaps you should untie me and we can talk about it.”

“Shut up,” Amenadiel spit out, resentment and rage usually unacknowledged coating his throat like acid. “Don’t you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?”

Lucifer laughed, “How could I possibly?”

Amenadiel fumed and took a step towards the angel on the floor, fist prepared to strike. He stopped, suddenly, a look of shock on his face.

“Are you…hard right now?” He asked.

Lucifer made a show of investigating his dick where it extended, stiff, along the inside of his outstretched thigh.

“It certainly looks like it, doesn’t it?” He replied. “What can I say? I’ve always had a thing for chains, or did I not make that obvious during my reign in Hell?” 

He looked up at Amenadiel, who stood mid-stride with an impenetrable look on his face. Well, not impenetrable, there was the familiar irritation, the disdain he’d demonstrated repeatedly for Lucifer himself as well as the mortal world in general, and…something else. 

“Certainly a boner can’t be this perplexing to you, my dear angel,” Lucifer mocked. “Or is your corporeal form one of the Ken Doll models?”

“Shut up,” Amenadiel growled, “It’s just rare I have to witness the pathetic details of mortal perversion firsthand.”

“I’ve exposed you to quite a lot in the time you’ve been my babysitter, haven’t I?” Lucifer said, giving a mocking shake to his hips.

“A lot more than I ever cared to see,” Amenadiel agreed.

Lucifer arched an eyebrow and made a point of staring at Amenadiel’s crotch while he said, “I’m not entirely convinced of your disinterest in mortal pleasures.”

Amenadiel looked confused for a brief moment, then followed Lucifer’s gaze to where a distinct bulge strained against his pants. 

“Guess you didn’t take the Ken Doll model, huh?”

“I am so sick of your voice,” Amenadiel growled, his free hand coming to cover his crotch. Oh, that was a mistake, he realized, as the touch was _just_ too firm and he felt a liquid heat spreading through his body in response. 

“I remember when I first discovered petty mortal pleasures with my own penis,” Lucifer mockingly recalled, “It’s a pity how quickly your own hand loses its intrigue.”

Amenadiel’s awareness was crowded with sensations in a way he typically shut out, the cold steel that wound around his arm from shoulder to wrist, that lie heavy in his hand, the warm air of Lucifer’s loft carrying the scent of recent indulgences, scents of alcohol and sweat and what could only be sex, a distant whiff of perfume, and the new sensations that pulsed in his pants, hot and straining and good in a way that was frustrating, incomplete. His corporeal body felt more real than it ever had in the past, a feeling that was both alarming and strangely disarming. Even his anger and frustration at Lucifer and his antics took on a new hue in light of these feelings, became tangled up with the need for release and completion that he felt elsewhere. He was vaguely aware of Lucifer’s voice continuing uninterrupted in the background, with the same cadence of mockery and teasing and the bite of sex, which Amenadiel had never before been able to identify. 

All he could think about was shutting Lucifer up, finding some way to get these new feelings out of his system, getting distance from this overwhelming mortal experience, and there was Lucifer, chained to himself on the floor, muscles strained in this awkward position, erect dick throbbing unashamedly amidst the tangle of limbs.

With an exasperated growl, Amenadiel threw the chain from around his arm, up into the shadows of the exposed rafters. The chain seemed to take on a life of its own and wrapped itself around the rafter until it pulled tight, and then kept going until Lucifer was suspended a few feet off the ground by three of his limbs, one leg hanging awkwardly down to the ground. He protested loudly, but Amenadiel was already standing by his head, his pants vanished in a snap of his fingers, his own erection waving free just over Lucifer’s head where it dangled in the air.

“Not the Ken Doll model at all, I see,” Lucifer said, strain in his voice like the chains binding him. 

“I said be quiet,” Amenadiel said, unceremoniously shoving his cock into Lucifer’s jabbering mouth, one hand gripping the suspended angel by the shoulder to hold him still, reaching with the other to grab the back of his head. 

Amenadiel’s mind worked during sex the same way as it did in his day-to-day life: observing, cataloging, analyzing. Only now there was the added element of pleasure working its way into his body. 

The first thing he noticed: Lucifer was a lot more tolerable when his words were muffled around a dick.

Second: The pleasure that resulted was a slow thing, that worked its way into his muscles and made his whole body feel heavy with it. Bright points pierced through the languid feeling as Lucifer’s teeth scraped along the shaft, the head once, as Amenadiel’s thrusting hips jostled him about.

Third: The rhythm was initially challenging to work out with the added element of Lucifer’s suspension in mid-air. A flick of his consciousness and the chain extended its length till Lucifer was on the ground, Amenadiel posed on his knees above his face, free to thrust at whatever pace he felt.

The anger and resentment that had been building for years coiled together with the sensations filling his body, made them sharper and more urgent. Amenadiel thrust into Lucifer’s open mouth, into his throat, with punishing force. He was vaguely aware that Lucifer’s muffled protesting had ceased, replaced with…moans? Amenadiel would have laughed were he not chasing the climax of these feelings, because of course Lucifer would get off on this. Everything was sex to Lucifer, though Amenadiel had to admit he was beginning to understand that. 

Saliva coated Amenadiel’s erection along its length, glistening streaks of it beginning to drip down his balls, to slap against Lucifer’s face. Amenadiel braced himself upright with one hand against Lucifer’s bound limbs, still straining towards the ceiling where they were bound by the chain, which dug into his pale skin and left sweltering red marks that would certainly darken with bruise when finally removed. From his vantage point he could see Lucifer’s dick where it stood up from his reclining body, a few trails of precum tracing their way down, stringing to his thigh where his length bounced against it with each of Amenadiel’s thrusts. The pale color of it made the flushed color of its swelling more obvious than in Amenadiel’s own. 

Amenadiel’s attention returned to his body, which was filled with a strange coiling sensation, like it was winding up in anticipation. His awareness was strangely doubled: one part of his mind consumed entirely by the feelings of hot-moist-friction and throbbing-almost-pulsing and so-close, the other part aware of his whole body, the exertion, the feeling of approaching an irresistible edge. Lucifer was fully engaged in the experience now, and his tongue pushed mercilessly against Amenadiel’s hardness as it forced itself in and out of his mouth, wet slurping and vaguely goading moans his only sounds. Somehow he even made moaning sound sarcastic and teasing. 

This only stoked Amenadiel’s erotically charged anger further, and with a noise like a growl he thrust one final time. The feeling like his body was holding its breath in anticipation, the heat of the rage and that other heat that had leaked into his body from his groin, all coalesced into pulsing, clenching waves, focused on the wet heat of his cock but twitching muscles through his abdomen, pinching his nipples into tight points, and it felt endless and immediate all at once. 

Amenadiel fell back and out of Lucifer’s mouth, landing hard on his ass on the cold hardwood floor. Lucifer lay groaning before him, mouth a puffy, red mess of saliva and strings of cum, his own dick still standing, unattended. Amenadiel felt a creeping wave of drowsiness following close on the heels of his current high, filling the hollows of his emptied rage and desire. He looked down at himself, softening dick shrinking, shiny with the cum and saliva it trailed, chest heaving with exertion and frustration. 

In the aftermath of his sexual fury, however, Amenadiel was able to return to his more heavenly-minded self, and he scowled with a mix of shame and contempt. 

“Fucking mortal bodies,” he spat, slapping his thigh and leaving it clothed once more. He stood.

“You know,” Lucifer’s voice rasped from the floor, barely audible, “Least you could do is return the favor, or free up a hand so a horny angel can finish things himself.”

Amenadiel snapped, “You’re a despicable, shameless traitor. I don’t know why I’ve been punished by being assigned to your pursuit.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” Lucifer mocked.

Shame lurked around the moment and Amenadiel felt the need to escape, evidence of his succumbing to his human disguise surrounding him. All thought of taking Lucifer back to Hell was brushed aside easily, yet another indication of his weakness. 

Throwing one final look of disgust at Lucifer, Amenadiel vanished, his chain following only after enough time passed to let Lucifer fear he wouldn’t be released.

Lucifer lay on the floor, unmoving for a moment, letting the blood work its way back into his limbs, which pricked painfully as the numbness faded and a deep ache settled into his muscles where they were already bruising. His jaw ached as well, and his throat would likely be sore for days, though Lucifer was sure that Chloe wouldn’t mind a few days with him on vocal rest. 

When the feeling returned to his limbs enough, Lucifer dragged himself up off the ground and limped back to bed. His companion of the night hadn’t stirred, but of course that was how Amenadiel always did his visits. Lucifer noted the passage of time had begun again, and watched the naked figure breathe, deep asleep. He contemplated briefly waking the man (Oliver? Or maybe Terrence?) to have him finish what Amenadiel left behind, but decided against it as he certainly had no energy for reciprocation. 

Lucifer slid into bed, and went to sleep.


End file.
